


An Ode to Dean’s Jewelry

by Toomanyfandoms99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 01:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Dean used the divot in his silver ring to open beer bottle caps.When he survived the Apocalypse, Dean had the most important awakening and revelation of his life: he didn’t want to die anymore.And the reason for this monumental change may or may not be the awkward bird-haired electric-eyed trenchcoated angel that he now called his best friend.





	An Ode to Dean’s Jewelry

**Author's Note:**

> This is my sort-of foray into the 5+1 trend, using Dean’s now-missing jewelry. Enjoy!

I. Amulet

Dean threw the original amulet in the trash can.

But when he discovered a Supernatural stage production, he found a replica of his old amulet.

It lead him to God, to the answers he himself didn’t want but Castiel had craved for most of his long life. It felt unfair, in a way, for Dean to meet God before Cas, his once-loyal servant. God wasn’t really worth all the fuss, anyway.

Dean hid the replica of his amulet — the one Sam had given to him long ago — in his bunker bedroom. It rested inside a cigar box that he nicked from Bobby’s house before the Apocalypse resulted in the death of most of his family members. The cigar box also contained a stack of photographs documenting Dean and Sam’s childhoods. It was a place for relics of Dean’s past, which is why it rested in the corner of his sock drawer.

One afternoon, Dean rifled through these old photos, the cigar box open on his bedspread and the amulet glinting in the lamplight. His heart ached as he went through the limited photographs in his possession. Once that was done, Dean lifted the necklace cord from the cigar box, the bronze Buddha-like head losing its color after years shut inside a drawer. The black paint defining the structure of the face and devil horns was fading as well. Dean figured that, if he ran his thumb over it, the paint would stain his skin. 

That was alright, though. This amulet was never perfect. It was a cheap novelty that Sam found in some weird souvenir store in a boring small town in the middle of nowhere-ville. The sentiment was what truly mattered.

Dean had impulsively thrown away that original sentiment in a motel room trash can. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t mend that mistake with a secret replica.

Which Castiel found Dean toying with, that very afternoon.

Dean didn’t realize his door was ajar. A sliver of Castiel’s face filled the crack in the doorway, a single blue eye catching his gaze.

“Sorry,” Castiel mumbled, shifting on his feet. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You can come in,” Dean said.

Hesitantly, the door creaked open more, Castiel framing the space. Dean blinked upon seeing Cas wearing a blue tee and flannel and jeans that Dean had offered to him. Since Cas didn’t have many clothes, Dean thought nothing of it at the time. Just shoved some items from his closet that he rarely wore or didn’t fit right anymore into Cas’s arms and said he could have them. Since that instance, Castiel had still rarely worn the few outfits Dean had gifted to him.

Castiel crossed the threshold into Dean’s room. Dean swallowed down the conflicting thoughts that rushed through his head, lowering his arm and placing the amulet into Bobby’s old cigar box. The space not taken up from the worn photographs left a nice groove where the amulet rested. Dean released the cord and twined it in a circle around the Buddha-demon head. 

Dean cleared his throat and closed the cigar box. “You doing okay?”

Cas halted before he could invade Dean’s personal space. “I finished watching Game of Thrones. You said you wanted to discuss after I caught up.”

Dean smiled instinctually. Only Cas could make him do that, lately. “Yeah. Let’s talk.”

II. Silver Ring

Dean used the divot in his silver ring to open beer bottle caps.

When he survived the Apocalypse, Dean had the most important awakening and revelation of his life: he didn’t want to die anymore. 

And the reason for this monumental change may or may not be the awkward bird-haired electric-eyed trenchcoated angel that he now called his best friend.

Dean found no solace in drinking alcohol anymore. It didn’t bring him the pleasure it used to. There was no way for him to reach blissful oblivion now that alcohol had mostly lost its effect on his mind. He also found no relief or release in casual hookups. It had lost its appeal, at long last. Now that Dean knew what he wanted, what he was really attracted to, one night stands and bottles of beer meant nothing to him.

Therefore, a silver ring that opened beer bottles didn’t mean much to him, anymore. It was just a silly trinket he picked up at a jewelry fair in a run-down Midwestern city. The kind of city that thrived on the profits of such things as jewelry fairs. 

Dean melted his silver ring and molded it into a single bullet. Instead of placing it in the Impala trunk box with other bullets, Dean stuck it in his nightstand drawer beside his favorite fully-loaded Colt handgun. Dean vowed he would only use this bullet if someone broke into his bedroom and his other rounds ran out. Only in the worst possible situation.

He still hadn’t used it.

Castiel found it once, rummaging through the nightstand drawer. Dean had asked him to search for digital clock batteries. If they weren’t somewhere in his odds-and-ends drawer, he would have to buy more.

Thankfully, Castiel procured a half-full package of clock batteries and set them aside. 

However, he dug his fingers past his handgun and several accumulated magazines — Dean had burned all of his porn ones in a trash can outside recently — and held the silver bullet between his fingers. It caught against the light, the silver reflecting onto Cas’s reading glasses. Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed in that intimidating yet curious way of his. His muted eyes slid over to Dean’s position lying on the bed. “Dean,” Cas rolled the bullet between his fingers like a cigarette, “why do you have a single bullet beside a fully-loaded gun?”

Once Castiel died on the cold hard ground, Dean realized he had to talk more about his feelings. About what he wanted to express to the angel he held close to his heart without confessing his love. As a result, Cas hung around the bunker more, which eventually lead to Cas cohabitating in Dean’s room with him. Dean found it comforting to have Cas there watching over him. Cas had yet to comment negatively on what he thought about these new arrangements. Castiel didn’t seem to mind either way.

All of these factors were why Dean replied honestly to Cas’s question. He told Cas that this bullet was once his silver ring, that this single bullet meant something to him, that he would only use it if absolutely necessary.

Castiel simply sat on the edge of the mattress, rolling the silver bullet between his fingers for a long moment, rendered silent. Dean watched Cas’s facial expression remain neutral, unable to decipher what was going on in Castiel’s lovely brain.

Castiel flipped the bullet around like a coin, over a over. Then, he murmured, “I’m attached to my blade in the same way. I suppose I understand this human sentiment.”

Dean smiled, unsure if words would supplement this situation. He did a little nod instead, one that expressed solidarity between soldiers.

Castiel’s mouth quirked upwards at the easy understanding. He stood up again and placed the silver bullet back into Dean’s nightstand drawer.

III. Elephant Hair Bracelet

Dean had underestimated the sharpness of a werewolf’s claws.

He sat in the war room of the bunker, observing the unknotted bracelet he had laid out on the table. He had scattered some tools from his box in the garage, but he’s not sure how they’ll help. 

Dean didn’t know how to fix his elephant hair bracelet. Two knots assured it wasn’t supposed to break apart in the first place. But Dean figured that the manufacturers didn’t factor in the existence of werewolves when they were making these bracelets. He was at a loss on how to fix it without tracking down a new one.

He had gotten this bracelet when he was fourteen at a flea market. John was away, and Dean wanted to take Sam outside for an hour or so. John had thought ahead and given them some extra money, in case the boys found anything interesting.

Sam found a serrated knife in a kitchen appliance booth. Dean bought it to cover his tracks with John. Then, Dean gravitated towards a jewelry booth, and used his remaining dollars to buy a two-knot elephant hair bracelet. Dean hid it under his sleeve so as to not alert John by the purchase. He’s had the bracelet ever since.

But a stupid werewolf ruined it. This bracelet had been with him most of his life. Dean almost wanted to hold a funeral for it.

As if sensing Dean’s sadness, Castiel entered the room from the kitchen, holding two mugs of tea. He wordlessly set one down next to Dean, taking a seat across from him. 

Dean looked at the steaming cup of black tea and frowned. “I said coffee.”

“Black tea has more than enough caffeine for you. Besides, coffee has a higher risk of giving you a stroke, high blood pressure, and heart disease.”

Dean sighed. “Fine. I’ll humor you.” He took a small sip and was surprised by the bitter taste. It really was quite similar to coffee.

While his guard was down, Cas captured the broken bracelet in his hand and dragged it towards him. He observed the twisted strands of elephant hair and the complex knots turned inside out. “The werewolf ruined this, yes?”

Dean nodded. “I don’t think I can fix it.”

Cas examined the bracelet carefully. “I can.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You can?” He asked hopefully.

“Your tools won’t help,” Cas said, motioning to the scattered tools about the table surface, “but I can do it manually.”

Warmth settled in Dean’s insides. “How?”

“Will you allow me to?” Cas asked.

Dean bobbed his head. “Course,” he allowed.

Castiel picked up the bracelet with delicate hands, fingers tracing the small cords. He mapped out the material, his thumb brushing over the tangled knots that held the bracelet together.

Then, as if possessed, Castiel began to weave the cords into a braid-like structure. He loosened and untangled and tied cords back into place. His fingers worked so quickly that Dean’s eyes couldn’t keep up with the motions. An entranced Dean observed it all happen, breathing shallowly as he concentrated.

Cas’s hands were magical. Rough enough to kill, but slender enough to complete delicate work such as this. He made Dean’s sewing skills look subpar in comparison.

What would it be like, he wondered, to have those hands all over him?

Dean pushed the unsavory thought away.

As Castiel successfully completed the first knot, Dean’s mind wandered again. Even sips of caffeinated tea didn’t do much to ground him.

Dean read once that there are different love languages. He took a Buzzfeed quiz — one night when his insomnia was acting up — and learned that he responded well to service love. That was when romantic partners did acts of service for one another to express affection. Things like buying takeout or gifting flowers or cleaning the house for the benefit of the other person.

With that reminder, Dean thought over things Castiel had done over the past months. Cas had been stocking the fridge with nonalcoholic beer and healthier food, a nudge for Dean and a joy for Sam. Cas offered to stitch any hunting wounds that Dean got, which Dean had him taken up on; he found sewing holes in flannels easier than patching up his own skin, anyway. Cas had recently dusted every room in the bunker, making the excuse of being bored. But Dean had complained the week earlier that the bunker needed to be cleaned, so that made Dean conclude Cas did it for him. Castiel had also repainted the black lines defining Buddha’s horned head on Dean’s amulet. Dean was breathless then, too. And finally, Cas understood why Dean clung to novelties like his silver bullet and other random oddities; Cas had made a real effort to understand the complexities of Dean’s mind.

No one had ever even tried, before. Not even his own brother.

And so on that fateful Thursday evening, Dean realized that Castiel was committing acts of service for his affections. The angel had wizened up since his first contact with humans a decade ago. Cas had learned more than Dean ever thought possible.

The sheer amount of service acts that Dean could recall meant that Castiel knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe he even saw the same Buzzfeed quiz.

Actually, Dean very well could have left the Internet browser open and drifted off to sleep. That sounded like something he would do, if he got tired enough.

God, it all made sense, didn’t it? All the jigsaw pieces fell into place so easily, now.

Castiel finished securing the second knot of the elephant hair bracelet. He smoothed his fingertips over the material, improving upon the original design. Instead of the cords being knotted into lines, they were knotted into a long curved braid. The intricacy of this new design was more practical, more durable. Dean dared a werewolf to puncture its claws through this bracelet.

With his inspection and weaving complete, Cas held out the bracelet. “No monster should be able to break this again.”

Dean stared at the braided and knotted elephant hair bracelet nestled in Cas’s outstretched palm. He felt a strange sense of foreboding settle in his gut. What he was about to do was bold, in that it could be read into as much or as little as possible. Dean was hoping for the former option. So, with fear clenching his stomach, Dean lifted both of his arms on the table. He laid one arm flat, his fingers closing around Cas’s wrist, holding his palm open. Heart pounding in his ears, Dean used his other hand to pluck the improved bracelet from Cas’s palm. Dean purposefully made his fingertips brush Cas’s warm skin, his grip on Cas’s wrist light and gentle. 

Dean said softly, in an almost-whisper, “I think you did an incredible job on this. Thank you, Cas. It means a lot to me.”

Castiel stared at Dean in disbelief. Dean stared right back, keeping his mannerisms and expression gentle. Absentmindedly, Dean took the bracelet and broke their contact, slipping it on with a genuine smile.

He was wearing this every day.

Dean offered, “would you want to watch that British show you like so much with me?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. “I can’t say no to Doctor Who.”

Dean chuckled. “Let’s go, then.”

IV. Skull Bracelet

Dean bought a beaded skull bracelet at a Day of the Dead festival in New Mexico.

Vengeful ghosts were crawling everywhere, but that wasn’t the point. That case was done and dusted years ago.

The point was that, yet again, Dean scrounged some dollar bills to buy another piece of jewelry he technically didn’t need. Oh well. It was an interest of his to collect trinkets and wares.

Dean bought a bracelet with wood-crafted skull beads, painted in white, brown, and black. He was drawn to the simplicity of the design. Everything else was decorated in vibrant neon colors, and this was just his style.

He didn’t wear this bracelet often, but he decided to put his own spin on it. The black beads had faded to a gray color, and he had the right supplies to do it. One day when Dean was bored, with no cases cropping up, he visualized how Castiel repainted the lines of his amulet head. He remembered how Cas went over them with a tiny paintbrush, barely sliding the tip on the bronze metal. How he swiped paint over the original lines with light precision, putting all of his concentration into the singular task. How Cas’s vibrant eyes squinted and he bit his lip as he focused.

Dean should be able to paint what he wanted to.

Feeling confident, Dean reopened the tiny bucket of black paint he bought for Cas’s use. He procured the thin paintbrush, which Cas had remembered to clean in the sink. Dean held the first skull bead between his thumb and forefinger, barely dipping the tip of the brush in black paint. As delicately as possible, Dean used his dominant hand to drag the tip of the paintbrush against the skull’s forehead. He swiped three stripes to create the letter ‘K’ and five more next to it to form the letter ‘S.’

With the first bead done, Dean exhaled to steady his heartbeat. He blew lightly on the paint, giving it a moment to dry. It was fast-drying paint, thankfully.

Once Dean was sure it was dry, he moved to the second skull bead. He painted his set of two letters, let it dry, and moved to the next one. He did this over and over, exercising an incredible amount of patience. He didn’t know where this new virtue stemmed from, but it must have something to do with Cas. How hesitant Cas was every time they moved a step further in their relationship. Like he expected Dean to crumble from Castiel’s every touch. But Dean was the first to assure Cas, each and every time, that he wouldn’t shatter. Dean wanted this as much as Castiel did.

Once Dean’s job was complete, he allowed himself to smile. His hard work had paid off. His skull bracelet looked so much better. Much more personalized. Much more unique.

Dean slipped the skull bracelet back on and made his way to the bunker kitchen. As if on cue, his stomach grumbled. He didn’t have the appetite for breakfast, so this would be his first meal of the day. Planning accordingly for once, Dean went for a can of Campbell’s noodle soup in the kitchen cupboard once he reached it. He dug for the can opener in the appliance drawer and sliced open the soup. He went for the saucepan and dumped the contents of the soup can into it. He set the pan on the stove and switched on the burners.

While he waited, Dean sensed a shadow walk closer, halting a step away. Dean caught the scent of the man behind him and smiled.

Arms snaked around his sides, pulling Dean into his front. Dean let out a chuckle and pressed a kiss to Castiel’s cheek. “Hey. How’d shopping go?”

“I got everything on the list,” Cas reported, “so it went well.”

Dean twisted around so he faced Cas. He glanced at the grocery bag Cas had silently plopped on the kitchen counter. “Did Jack enjoy it?”

“He kept begging me for these things that Claire likes called Pocky sticks. Have you heard of them?”

“They’re Japanese, I think. They’re biscuit sticks half-dipped in chocolate.”

“So not harmful?”

Dean raised an eyebrow, his eyes shining. Cas’s confusion never failed to be endearing. “Why do you ask?”

“I bought several for Jack.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed. “Of course you did. That’s perfectly fine, Cas. Make sure Jack doesn’t eat a bunch at once, though.”

“Got it.”

Dean brought his attention back to the soup. He switched off the burners and got out a bowl. He put on an oven mitt as a precaution and tipped the soup from the saucepan into the bowl. He rested the steaming soup bowl on the counter. He pulled out a spoon from the utensil drawer and sat on a stool. Dean stirred his soup absentmindedly as he observed Cas pack away grocery items. It was amazing to Dean how easy and comfortable their silences were. They got on with their individual tasks and let it be.

Until Castiel closed the cupboards and narrowed his eyes. Without warning, he leaned over the kitchen counter and grasped Dean’s wrist. Dean rested his soup spoon on the edge of the bowl and allowed the preemptive touch. He was glad Cas was secure enough in himself to initiate. Dean unfurled his fingers and watched Cas run his finger pads over the skull beads on his bracelet. Cas chose a white skull to focus on first, using his thumb and forefinger to center it in his grip. He brought his face closer, reading the letters ‘MI.’

With furrowed eyebrows, Castiel met Dean’s gaze and inquired, “did you paint state abbreviations on every skull?”

“Yes,” Dean replied, his voice coming out quieter than expected. “I saw how you painted my amulet and did it myself.”

A shock of heat that Dean didn’t know existed dominated Castiel’s irises. Cas glanced down and examined every single bead in succession, drinking in the wealth of information.

Once Cas saw the final bead, he dropped Dean’s hand and tried to read Dean’s mind without using his powers. When he could not, he asked, “what do these states mean to you, Dean?”

Dean swallowed at the startling intensity always packed behind Cas’s gaze. Dean said, “these states are all places where I’ve lived throughout my life.”

Castiel’s eyes shined at the final piece sliding into place. “I see. Were they all places you enjoyed?”

“Not always,” Dean shrugged, “but I had no say in that, back then.” He cleared his throat and said, “I need to eat before my soup gets cold.”

Cas exhaled through his nose, breaking all contact with Dean. “I apologize. I forgot myself for a moment.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said softly. “You don’t have to apologize for that. Make a note.” He lifted his soup spoon again, filling it with broth.

Castiel let Dean eat, eventually swishing out of kitchen to make sure Jack hadn’t eaten all the Pocky sticks at once.

V. Military Watch

The amount of military watches Dean went through had reached a comical number. He had lost count.

He eventually splurged on a high-grade durable watch with a digital face telling his preferred military time, as well as every zone throughout the United States. Dean had secretly done a few gigs at local bars around Kansas that offered live music for extra cash. He played a guitar and sang whatever songs came into his mind for a half hour set. Castiel even saw him once, practically jumping Dean’s bones once they got to the bunker. The managers of these bars paid well, especially since he was supposedly a good singer. Had soul, or whatever. Cas’s reaction already assured Dean of those things. It didn’t matter what strangers thought of his singing. Dean got in, sang, and got out with good reserve cash. He spent his first payday on an expensive military watch.

Only this military watch eventually broke, too.

The digital clock face cracked in half after the wind was knocked out of him when a wraith bowled him into the concrete ground. Dean was lucky none of his ribs or tender bones shattered. Just some cuts and bruises. Dean did away with the wraith shortly after that dizzying impact.

He picked the damaged watch up off the floor and sighed deeply. He would have to see if Cas could work his magic on his favorite watch.

And when Dean returned to the bunker with Sam, he plopped the broken watch into Castiel’s hands. “Can you fix it?” Dean asked.

Castiel stared at the crack in the digital watch face and frowned. “I can’t.”

Dean’s face fell. “Oh.”

“I can do something better. Maybe.”

Dean didn’t let too much hope fill his tone. “Okay. What would that be?”

Castiel closed his palm, pocketing the watch. “You’ll see.” With that ominous declaration, Cas left the room.

For the next three days, Dean asked Castiel what he was doing with the watch. And every time, Cas remained mum.

Dean finally got his answer on a Thursday night. Castiel approached him in his bedroom when Sam and Jack had gone to bed.

Dean observed Cas curiously, sitting up on the pillows. “So?” He prompted.

Castiel went towards the mattress. Instead of slipping under the sheets, though, he knelt near his side of the bed. 

Dean’s eyes widened, and he crawled onto Cas’s side, looking down at the angel. “What’re you doin’?”

As if waiting for the exclamation, Castiel smiled softly. He pulled a box out of his trench coat pocket and rested it on his knee. “Dean Winchester,” Castiel flipped open the box, his newly-fixed military watch inside, “will you marry me?”

Dean exhaled shallowly. His eyes darted from the floor, the clock, the headboard, the pillow, the sheets, his hands, the box, the watch, and Cas’s lovely hopeful face. Dean blinked, and managed, “y-you r-really want to marry me? Certified m-mess Dean Winchester? Me?”

Cas’s smile remained, as if he was expecting this very question before Dean even did. “Dean, I spent three days tracking down a replica of your watch and hunting down Rowena so she could cast a spell to make it unbreakable. I wouldn’t go through this if I didn’t want to marry you.”

Since Dean had long since extinguished his macho facade, he allowed tears to fall down his cheeks. “Okay. Yes. I’ll marry you.”

A rare gummy grin lit up Castiel’s features. “Good.” 

They both smiled, adjusting to this new normal. Cas sat beside Dean in bed. Dean lifted the military watch from the box and slid it over his wrist. 

Then, Dean kissed Castiel like there was no tomorrow.

VI. Bonus: Rosary

Dean took a step backward into his bedroom, stepping over the threshold. He held his arms past the door frame, his palms exposed to the air.

A familiar pair of hands slid into his. Dean tugged them closer, Castiel willingly walking until they were chest-to-chest. 

Dean drank in black gelled hair, vibrant blue eyes, luminous tan skin, an easy smile, and a form-fitting suit. In Dean’s opinion, Castiel had never looked more beautiful.

Dean rested their foreheads together, their bodies swaying a little. Dean shut his eyes and inhaled Cas’s new cologne. An early wedding gift from Dean. “Close the door,” Dean muttered.

Castiel’s foot slyly caught on the edge of the door, shutting it with a calculated swipe. All without breaking from their embrace. A thrill went through Dean’s veins. Cas closed his fingers over Dean’s hips and asked, “did you like the ceremony?”

Dean nosed Cas’s cheek. “Mhm. I’m surprised that everybody cried. Sammy, Jack, Claire, Kaia, Alex, Patience, Jody, Donna, Mom. All of ‘em.”

“I think they were crying because you looked happy. And you finally weren’t snapping like a bulldog about flower arrangements.”

Dean chuckled lowly. “Oh, hush. I wanted it to be the best damn wedding anyone’s ever seen.”

They swayed in a slow dance, not needing any music. Dean considered it a form of foreplay.

Castiel murmured into Dean’s ear, “you did good. I have a gift for you.”

Dean hummed, opening his eyes. “I was wondering where my wedding gift went. What is it?”

Castiel pulled away from their embrace, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. A collection of silver and black beads gathered between his fingers as he lifted up a painted cross. Before Dean could make a smart remark, Cas explained, “this is a rosary necklace. I know you don’t believe that God predestined your life, but this isn’t an ordinary cross.” Castiel unfastened the clasp. Dean ducked his head accordingly, allowing Cas’s fingers to brush the back of his neck as he closed the clasp. Dean glanced down at the rosary; the necklace was a perfect fit, the cross resting over his heart. “I blessed this rosary to protect you from harm, should you choose to wear it.”

Dean ran the pads of his fingers over the silver and black beads, then over the cross. He stared into Cas’s gorgeous eyes and honeyed his tone. “You’re so sweet. Thank you for looking out for me all the time.” Dean looped his arms around Cas’s neck. “I’ll wear it every day,” Dean promised. “Along with my ring, of course.”

“Good. Thanks for humoring me.”

“It’s only fair.” Dean leaned closer again and whispered, “can we get to the really good part of tonight now?”

Castiel was noticeably hesitant. 

Dean pecked his lips and murmured, “I’ll be gentle. Just what you deserve.”

Castiel exhaled and nodded. “You’re so good to me.”

“Mhm.”

Dean ran his fingers over his new rosary necklace one final time, and unfastened Castiel’s bowtie with a tug.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
